Meet Me at the Bar
by Strain of the Stress
Summary: The tales of Elizabeth Shepard (Sentinel, Spacer, Sole Survivor) and Garrus Vakarian as they take on the biggest threat the Galaxy has ever faced.
1. Chapter 1

Menae, 2400 Hours

"Looks like your summit just got a lot more interesting."

Elizabeth Shepard looked at Garrus before shaking her head slightly, exhaling slightly as she thought of the massive undertaking the Primarch had just requested of her – _Convince the two races in the galaxy which arguably hate each other the most to fight with each other. Yeah, no problem. I'll just call wrex right now and tell him he needs to make nice and play well with the race that sterilized his people for a thousand years. I'm sure he'll be fine with that…_

She turned and walked back towards the structure in which she had found Victus, returning a salute from a young Turian soldier before taking over the comm set, syncing her own headset and calling in Evac.

"Cortez, this is Shepard. We've moved a couple of clicks from our last position. Sending you the coordinates now."

"Roger that, ma'am. ETA ten minutes."

"Understood, Shepard out."

Shepard pushed back from the unit, walking back down the ramp out of the structure and turned to the left, stepping forwards as she removed her helmet, tasted the dust and metallic tang of mass effect weapons mixed with the omnipresent stench of death and wounds and the burning of a world which loomed overhead. She walked up to the ledge which over-looked the crashed Turian ship, staring at the husk of what was once a great battle vessel, a component in the strongest military fleet ever created reduced to a smoking husk devoid of life or fight. Garrus walked up besides her, matching her gaze towards the ship. When he spoke, his voice was tired, his subharmonics sounding exhausted almost to a degree that she hadn't heard since she found him on Omega. The past few hours of fighting he had sounded typically energetic, focused on his next target and the battle around him such as allowed no room for fatigue or exhaustion. But as they talked now, the past three days of fighting he had endured became apparent.

"I spoke to the Primarch, he said he'll need a few more minutes to secure his command here, do what he can to make sure we don't lose this position."

"Evac's coming in ten, he'll have until then."

A little bit of sarcasm slipped into Garrus' voice as he responded, a shadow of an old repartee thrown by the specter of a galactic scale war.

"Ordering around Primarchs now, I see?"

Shepard laughed slightly, almost bitterly as she too felt the fatigue of the past few days settle in. Since they had left Earth she had barely slept, and paused only to take a few nutrient bars to keep herself going, adrenaline and pure determination replacing her need for food and sleep as she scrambled to pick up the pieces of shattered defenses and battered militaries to face the greatest threat the Galaxy had ever known.

"Well Generals call you 'Sir' now, so I figured it's not too different…"

Garrus laughed, similarly to Shepard's in the bitterness and exhaustion, but with more cynicism, an incisive undertone resounding through his subharmonics that resented the destruction that was being wrought around him, that there was no weapon ready, no defense capable of repelling it.

"That's just a formality."

"Could have fooled Corinthus."

The two stood for heart beats, regarding the scene in front of them, eyes moving slowly from the barren landscape to the methodically marching Reaper, the sounds of its massive legs impacting the dusty ground with cataclysmic force and it's weapon being fired with eviscerating efficiency echoing through the thin air as a mild wind blew over them, the sweat on Shepard's forehead chilling with the air. She was the first to interrupt the silence, softly, her voice hoarse with dehydration, but no less lacking for emotion and earnestness.

"It's good to see you, Garrus. I didn't know… I hoped…"

Garrus interrupted, his voice low in timber and smooth in timbre, the subharmonics resonating through his chest as he spoke slowly, looking down and to his right at Shepard as he did so.

"It's good to see you too. We got a few reports from Earth before it went dark, I wasn't sure if… you know."

Shepard shook her head, laughing slightly under her breath, more a series of repeatedly emphatic exhales than any actual laugh, closing her eyes lightly and crossing her arms as she did so.

"This is going to be one hell of a war."

Garrus' reply was strangely warm, the difference in sound and tone slight but to a trained ear, the new quality encouraging, bolstering, giving no reduction or attempt at euphemism of the destruction at hand but instead a burst of confidence for Shepard's own abilities, for the war effort which she had so suddenly found herself spear-heading.

"Yeah, it sure is. But even if we don't know how to win it yet, Shepard, we'll find a way. You'll find a way. That's what you do. What we do. It's how we stopped Saren, destroyed the Collectors, and how we're going to beat these bastards or die trying."

Shepard looked to her left at Garrus, a small smile filled infinitely more with a desperate need to hope than any actual mirth or humor or happiness clinging to her face as she spoke, her green eyes meeting Garrus' blue.

"You think we'll find a way?"

Garrus turned to face her, looking down as he spoke, his voice direct, powerful, but no louder nor any harder than it had been before.

"I've had my doubts, after the battle here, sometimes it's hard to see us winning this one. But if anybody's going to do it, it's you. And I'll be right behind you, stylishly stealing all the headshots."

Shepard's eyes lit up at the joke as her smile absorbed a little bit of the dry humor which had snuck in to the end of Garrus' statement and become so apparent in his Turian-equivalent of a rye grin, her smile matching his as she turned to face him, cocking her hips out to one side.

"Last time I checked, big guy, I had the jump on you by five."

"You haven't been facing down husks for three days."

"And you weren't on Mars."

"You might have a better kill-count, but I think I've still got the headshot count."

"Wait till you have to slot a shot through a giant riot shield and then we'll talk."

As Garrus opened his mouth to respond Shepard heard a crackle of static through her ear-piece, holding up one-hand to silence Garrus as she brought her right two fingers to her ear, turning her head slightly to the left and looking down as she listened to the transmission from Cortez.

"Commander, I'm incoming, ETA twenty seconds."

She turned and looked at Garrus who simply nodded as she pivoted on her right foot, thrusting her left out as she walked towards the center of the camp, nodding at Vega, who then walked over and alerted the primarch.

"Roger that Cortez, standing by."

She and Garrus stood beside each other as they watched the small blue dot that was the Shuttle's front thrusters appear in the black sky, juxtaposed against the black planet covered in fiery red and orange blotches. Shepard turned her head to Garrus as she spoke, her eyes still fixed on the shuttle as she heard the Turian Soldiers scrambling to establish security around the landing zone.

"I'm assuming you're going to get yourself set up in the forwards battery?"

"I'm assuming there are calibrations still to be done?"

"I'll come find you, we can see who's winning."

"Deal. But come prepared to lose."

"Like hell I will."

Normandy, Forward Battery, 0800 Hours

The conversation had started off easily, a familiar cadence settling in around their comments and sarcastic replies, the bedrock of years of friendship and shared experiences holding underneath the weight of the stress and death and battle and fear which they had both experienced for the past few days. It was clear that Garrus had been throw a harrowing experience beyond anything Shepard had ever seen him after, even Omega, the shadows in his eyes going much deeper than exhaustion, reaching back to lost friends, loved ones, a planet burning around him, his voice steely and hard, not with the anger and resentment which the burning bodies and pool of cerulean blood had developed the last time they had been reunited, but rather a determination and desperate intensity which was focused solely on winning the conflict at hand.

The conversation moved quickly beyond their small greetings, promises unspoken of stories yet to be shared of the past three days, big guns and aim. Shepard was slightly startled, if not relieved, when Garrus brought up the topic of their romance, however, the subject one she had been hoping to smooth over but denying the thought, occluded by troop movements and fallen planets, war planning and unanswerable distress calls.

"But I can go out and get new ones, if it will help."

Shepard laughed again, looking up at Garrus after he had approached, seeing the familiar curve of his mandibles and angular familiarity in his facial plates. She laughed like she had before, some cross between a chuckle and a giggle, though she would deny the latter playing any part. _Alliance Commanders do not chuckle, I would never do such a thing. And certainly, definitely not with a Turian such as Garrus Vakarian watching._

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Garrus."

"If this war has anything to say, I may not be able to promise not to."

Shepard laughed again, a small moment of mirth before the bitter taste which had lingered in her mouth since Earth resumed its station, burning her tongue and seeping the moisture out of her throat as she felt the tightness in her chest and the buzz in her head of so many possibilities, so many voices, so many opportunities to fail. She closed her eyes gently against the influx of emotion, turning around and walking back up into the forward battery, leaving Garrus standing behind, baffled and flaring his mandibles in confusion. She made her way towards the tactical terminal Garrus had set up, the original "Technical and engineering" work station a perfect conduit for the information feeds which he needed to process, little blue circles moving around the reds, all too often getting destroyed before the entire scene went red and moved to another environment – a new planet, a new simulation, she didn't know. And it didn't matter. Too much red.

Elizabeth bowed her head, the words bitter in her voice as she spoke.

"Dammit, Garrus, you know I want to say yes. But, for once, I can't help but wonder how smart this is."

"How smart what is? Scars? Pretty terrible, especially when delivered by a rocket."

Garrus approached behind her, leaning against the terminal next to her, turning it off with a few interface pushes, silencing the small beeps in the back ground forcing Elizabeth's attention to his face. Her eyes were surprisingly wet.

"No, us. You, me… This." Shepard gestured at the space between them. "We've faced long odds before, been through plenty of battles and injuries and somehow both made it out of here alive. But… I can't guarantee we'll do that. There's too much here. Too many hostiles. This is the big one, Garrus, the fight we've trained for but haven't come close to prepared for. I don't…"

Elizabeth paused, taking a deep breath and blinking heavily as she felt the force of the stress and the fatigue and the despair and the incredible loss and suffering weigh down behind her eyes, pushing the water further onto them, threatening to assault the rest of her face. Garrus waited, patiently, having stood up and turned around, leaning his back towards the blank terminal screen, looking to his right down at Shepard as she bowed her head and collected her thoughts. By the time she looked up again, the area around her eyes was red with agitation.

"I don't know if I can lose you again. So… I guess I wonder if I want to give this screwed up galaxy the chance to take you."

Garrus spoke softly, understandingly, his voice a cushioned restatement of what he thought Shepard was saying.

"So instead you'll just distance yourself so that losing doesn't hurt?"

She nodded mutely, her mouth closed and her breaths slightly ragged through her nose as she remembered a pool of blood and a wet gasp, a fear that burrowed through her stomach as her hands became wet and warm and the medivac shuttle came too late, as the doctor operated for too long and Garrus slept too deeply, and the incredible relief and fear and every emotion mixed in one that bubbled from her face when she saw him walk through the briefing room door. Timidly, she began again, her voice crescendoing as loss and memory seeped into her neutral tones, finishing with a spent emptiness that echoed of a thousand futures she never wanted to imagine with a thousand fateful bullets.

"I lost… I lost everyone. On Akuze. And I loved some of them, like a family. They were my first unit, even before N-school. And I told myself I wouldn't let myself… wouldn't break my own heart like that again. We're soldiers, Garrus, we gamble with our lives every damn day. Attachment like that? Love? It doesn't quite fit in. And then Alenko came in and despite everything I fell for him… Well what did that get me? A crater on a planet which name I try and forget every day? And then you, Garrus, you go and practically try to kill yourself on Omega, and every damn mission afterwards, until we caught Sidonis. And then I got locked up. I lost you. You were never supposed to be the one I lost. You were… you were always going to be by my side. I've lost so much, Garrus. And I'll live with it, I've lived with it so far. Hell, I've died with it and then lived with it again. I just… I don't think I can deal with losing you. Not for good."

Garrus nodded, looking pensively towards the rest of the room while Shepard stood up, turning around to lean back against the terminal, drying her eyes and sniffling as she tried to regain her composure. Slowly, Garrus began.

"I know what you're saying, Shepard, Liz. My team, on Omega; my team on Palaven; even you, Shepard, losing all of them, all of you, hurt. Like I didn't think it could. But you know, Shepard, eventually I realized something."

He paused waiting for a response, Elizabeth raising an eyebrow as she looked towards him, her eyes still read and her nose still running but her face, for the most part, closer to the composure she was trying to will it towards.

He continued.

"Eventually, I realized that for how much I'd hate to lose you, I'd hate even more to never be with you. Or them. Any of them. I hated watching and knowing they had died so much, it almost put a bullet in Sidonis' head and will sure as hell make sure that I put a bullet in every damned Reaper I see. But I wouldn't give up the memories I have, that made it so hard to lose them, for the world. I don't think I could stand losing you, not again. But I also don't think I could, can, stand this war, not without you. If you don't want me, if you don't feel the same way, that's your call. But personally, I don't want to be anywhere but on your six."

Elizabeth looked at him for a little while, her eyes narrowing as she looked into his small, blue, unmoving ones. After a few heartbeats (eternities according to Garrus' nervous mind), she looked forwards, laughing slightly, before continuing to laugh harder and harder, Garrus joining in after the first few chuckles. Like a rubber band that had been drawn to the point of snapping and then returned the two continued to laugh until they were both grabbing their mid-sections and heartily guffawing, the tension of the past few days and of the conversation exiting them with a violently humorous reaction. After a few minutes of laughing, Elizabeth wiped her eyes of the tears her laughing had caused before looking back at Garrus, smiling for the first time since Earth with pure, actual happiness.

"You always know what to say, don't you Vakarian?"

Garrus shrugged, his mandibles wide in a Turian smile.

"Call it a talent."

Elizabeth's face sobered up as she took a deep breath, easing the pain in her stomach from the laughing and collected her thoughts, considered what she was going to say. She began slowly, though happily, her smile growing as she continued to deliver her news, and as Garrus' grew as well.

"You're right, Garrus. For how much I'd hate to lose you, I'd hate even more to never have you. This war is… hell. No other way to put it. and there's a chance, too good a chance for my liking, that we'll both be dead by the end of it. But until then? There's no-one I'd rather have behind me."

"I'm glad you think so, Shepard. Because I don't think I'd follow anybody else head-long into a war that's been brewing for 50,000 years."

They both laughed, standing and staring out into the main battery, before Shepard shifted slightly to her left. Both of their hands had fallen down between them, and as Shepard closed the distance between them, she searched his hand out with her own, not looking down. When their fingers met they grabbed each other, both still looking forwards as they sat there, side-by side, enjoying the presence and reminder thereof which was represented through the simple junction of three and five fingers.

After five minutes of companionable silence, Shepard spoke up.

"You eaten yet?"

Garrus cocked his head, looking through the bulkhead over top of him as he thought.

"No, and come to think of it I'm starving."

They both stood up, their hands leaving the other's embrace but walking a few centimeters closer as they exited the battery and made their way down the front hallway, watching as the Alpha shift crew-men began ot leave their breakfast table to go assume their posts.

"So, you're telling me you're calibrating on an empty stomach?"

Garrus walked behind the island, bending down to get food out of the special dextro locker which had since been stocked by a small Turian supply shuttle, pulling out an ever-appetizing package of "Emergency Ration #25b", turning his head over his right shoulder as he spoke.

"I believe the phrase is 'Art waits for no Turian.' "

Shepard likewise walked to the Human fridge, retrieving a cold plate of "Ration Pack 37i" which had been abandoned in favor of a call from Admiral Hackett regarding small-flotilla tactical doctrine, placing it inside the re-heating unit besides Garrus', standing closely beside him to the aft of the machine.

"I didn't know you had art?"

"We do, it's called calibrating."

The re-heater beeped a pleasant announcement that their food was done.

"Uh huh."

They reached for their food and took a seat.

 **Author's Notes**

So, I don't mean to play favorites, but oh my goodness this was so much easier to write than anything my last Shakarian attempt put out. Elizabeth writes so much easier than Kathryn, and the entire thing flowed much more like what I write for John than Kat. Sorry for changing the Garrus-Shepard reunion scene in the forwards battery, I try not to change game dialogue too often, but what the game had by default just didn't seem to fit the characters and, what's the phrase: "We can fix anything with fanfiction!"

Either way, I would love to get some comments and feedback, as always. Or suggestions. Suggestions are always great and I don't get a lot. So, please, send me them! Even just headcanons (I love headcanons, I have multiple notes on my phone of just headcanons).

Regardless, enjoy!

SotS


	2. Chapter 2

Normandy, Deck 1, 2300 Hours

"Shepard, you called. Need me for…"

Garrus paused his sentence as he walked through the door into the stateroom, the datapad he was holding in his left hand going limp at his side as he sniffed the air, angling his head upwards and up and sniffing again, taking a few tentative steps forwards, continuing to smell the air. When he came to the stairs he looked down, being greeted by Elizabeth sitting on the port side of the couch, a single black leather shoe in her hand and another on the table, an open tin of some black substance on the table as well, along with a small cup of water. In her hand, she had what looked like an old shirt, with smudges of presumably the same black substance in little dots all over it.

As Garrus sauntered down the stairs, his mandibles opening slightly in mild confusion, Elizabeth took the T-shirt away from the shoe she was holding, against which it appeared she was rubbing a wet part of the T-shirt vigorously, looking up and smiling, slightly tiredly, at Garrus. Garrus spoke, standing over the table.

"What is that smell, Shepard? Is it that stuff?"

He pointed at the black substance.

Elizabeth laughed, setting the shoe down next to its match, though the one on the table appeared to be noticeably more reflective in parts, the rag falling between the pair and the cup of water. As she spoke, she massaged her right hand with her left, squeezing the fleshy bits in-between the first finger and the thumb and seeming to close her eyes in relief. Her voice sounded tired, an undertone of stress hiding behind the ever-present sarcasm which only an ear trained in subvocals could pick-up.

"Well, I was going to try and fool you, saying it's a human mating paint or something, but truth be told it's shoe polish."

"Shoe polish?"

Elizabeth laughed gently, nodding slowly and angling her head slightly to the right in a seeming consideration of the unlikely answer.

"Yep. Shoe polish."

Garrus took a seat on the remaining leg of the couch, crossing his legs in his distinctly Turian way as he settled in, watching as Shepard picked her shoe back up, dipping the rag first in the water and then collecting a glob of what was apparently polish before applying it vigorously to the inboard panel, the scuffed leather quickly filling up with the material and taking on a matte appearance. Garrus spoke as he watched, his eyes fixed on Shepard's furtive, repeated action as she took the rag in tiny circles up and down and across and back the panel of leather.

"Last I checked, humans used epoxycene for their dress shoes, had a few guys in C-Sec who loved to complain about how hard the stuff was, always just told them it meant they could kick each other's asses harder. From what they said, though, the stuff never scuffed. No polish."

Shepard nodded again, dipping the rag once more in the water before continuing her tiny circles around the panel of leather, the material now becoming noticeably more reflective, though the swirls her rag caused could still be seen.

"Most of the military does, yeah. But I'm a generational military family. Hell, I think there's been a Shepard in the military for the last 200 years straight. It's a bit of a family tradition, polishing your shoes before a big event."

"I'm guessing this 'big event' is the diplomat meeting we're heading too?"

Elizabeth nodded, sticking her tongue out slightly from her mouth. She dipped her rag again as Garrus watched, the swirls slowly going away on the leather as she did so, both hers and Garrus' attention fixed wholly on the shoe that was in her hand. Her voice was focused when she spoke again, slightly distant as she concentrated on the polishing at hand, staring with an intensity that would polish the shoe instantly, if possible.

"You know, the leaders of two council races and the one that won the Rachni wars. No big deal."

Another dip, more small circles. Garrus found himself leaning forwards as he watched, seeming to be drawn in by Elizabeth's uncompromising focus. She continued, her voice rising and falling as she told a story, Garrus enraptured as she did so.

"I remember my mom doing this every night before anything large, a hearing or something. She'd sit down – her stateroom was about the size of this one, she had a smaller couch, though – with one shoe, and my dad would grab the other one… well, when he was around. But they'd sit down with a can of shoe polish, a glass of water, and two rags. They'd sit there for hours, I used to think it was so boring, got into all kinds of trouble. But they'd talk about what was happening, prepare for what was going to come. It was almost like a ritual between the two of them."

Another dip, more small circles.

"When Dad died, I took over for him, and then we would talk about some of the other kids on the station, on the ship when I was with her, school and all that stuff. I still thought it was boring, but at least I was talking to her, that became more and more of a luxury as she rose in rank."

Another dip, more small circles.

"When I finally joined up, I used the epoxycene shoes until I graduated OCS. Then, the first thing I got from my mom after commissioning was a pair of leather shoes and a can of polish. I put it off for months, it wasn't until I went to my first command that I actually pulled them out, I guess the tradition just kind of… set in."

Another dip, more small circles. Garrus shifted slightly in his seat, now sitting fully forwards and staring as Elizabeth continued polishing. She chuckled, slightly as she continued.

"God, I must have spent four hours polishing before I reported to N-school. I only wore them for a few hours, just reporting in before we changed into our hard-suits, but it didn't matter. It helps me to calm down, get myself ready, I guess. Like cleaning a rifle, sort of. Only difference is, this weapon is intended for the conference room, not the battlefield."

Another dip, more small circles. Garrus looked at Shepard as she finished, laughing slightly at her last comment before speaking.

"You think you're going to convince Wrex to give us support with… hand-shined shoes?"

Shepard laughed at the joke, swatting at him with the towel in her hand, Garrus leaning back too slowly and the towel making a wet impact sound against his left shoulder-plate.

"No, he'd probably say they're 'soft as a baby pyjak' or some Wrex-ism like that. No, this is for nobody but myself."

Elizabeth turned the shoe underneath the lights in the cabin, scrutinizing the panel she had finished before nodding to herself, setting the shoe delicately down on the table before standing up, putting her hands on her lower back as she stretched, Garrus standing up with her. He spoke to her as she draped the old shirt, now thoroughly soaked, over one of the arms of the couch, tossing the remaining water down the incinerator chute.

"Well, if you want, I'll help you next time. Maybe we can reflect the Reapers to death."

Shepard laughed as she picked the shoes up, placing them delicately in the shoe-drawer in the wall. Garrus continued.

"Anyways, Shepard, you called me up here for something. Care to tell me what it is?"

Elizabeth turned and smiled at Garrus as she reached up, un-doing the shoulder pad restraint which fell across the top of her chest, exhaling in relief as the article of clothing relinquished her.

"You're already doing it. Just keep it up."

Garrus cocked his head, his mandibles flaring in confusion, his brow plates coming together atop his face. His voice was incredulous as he watched Elizabeth walking to the bed, sitting down and pulling her boots off, massaging the bottom of her feet and side of her shins.

"You wanted me here to… watch you polish your shoes?"

"I was polishing, so it works."

"You've lost me, Liz."

Elizabeth laughed before standing up, padding over towards Garrus in sock-clad feet, stopping a meter in front of him and placing her hands on her hips, throwing them to the left.

"Well, I let it slide last night. But it's sure as hell not going to continue on this ship, not so long as I have any say in it. And certainly not while that damned battery continues to be as isolated as it is."

Garrus mandibles' flared further in confusion as he moved his head forwards slightly, tilting it further to a twenty degree angle to his left as he looked at Elizabeth, a small smirk sneaking onto her previously reprimanding face.

"You've really…"

Elizabeth broke out laughing, grabbing the front of Garrus' cowl to pull him down, standing on her tip-toes to plant a small kiss on the un-damaged side of his face, continuing to laugh as she stepped away, walking up to the desk as she spoke, standing in front of the Terminal, staring intently at it.

"You're cute when you're confused, you know that?"

Garrus' face changed to a mix of exasperation and confusion at her comment, his voice slightly resenting as he followed her up the small staircase, standing at the boundary of the desk as he spoke.

"Don't hold it against me if I try and deny you that… particular satisfaction as often as possible. You mind telling me what the hell you mean?"

The terminal shut down at Elizabeth's last input before she turned to face Garrrus, a soft smile emanating not only from her mouth but her eyes as well, her face an image of sympathetic caring and love.

"You're spending the night here, Garrus. I'll be damned if you keep on sleeping in the Forwards Battery so long as I have this over-sized stateroom."

Garrus stopped, his face freezing as he looked at the still-smiling Elizabeth, his feet staying planted firmly as his gaze followed her into the bathroom, shaking his head slightly as he regained composure and walked up to lean casually – or, at least, an attempted casual – against the door. Elizabeth was running some kind of buzzing electronic ship (he was fairly certain humans called it a "toothbrush") over her teeth, an off-white foam forming in her mouth and dripping into the metal sink.

"You sure you want me up here, Liz? I've got things I can take care of downstairs over-night, and if something goes wrong with a firing algorithm I should be there. Besides, The Primarch might try to reach me and that's the last place I told him I would be, and I've got my terminal set up down there…"

Elizabeth spit into the sink, filling a very-small cup next to the sink fixture with water before rinsing her mouth. She stepped forwards, standing in front of Garrus and taking his hands within hers, her voice low and earnest, almost shameful of the emotion it carried but more so for admitting the existence of such sentiment than embarrassment at its content and intent. She looked down at the space between them, eyes flitting between their hands.

"Garrus, we both said we wanted to be… with, each other for this war. And I meant it. If you want to sleep down in the battery, I suppose I won't stop you. But, tonight… every other night… it would mean a lot… the world, to me if you were to stay up here."

She looked up at Garrus, smiling small at him, her face showing an Elizabeth Shepard which Garrus knew few were every privileged to see, the Elizabeth who was less than an ideal and a poster-figure, who was not the most prominent Commander in the Alliance Navy but just a remarkable, incredible woman.

"I want you with me, even at night. At my six."

Garrus's mandibles opened in a soft Turian smile as he took a step towards Elizabeth, his voice low and earnest, the subharmonics screaming of love and affection and contentment which he doubted she registered on anything besides a subconscious level, though that was enough for him. For them.

"Liz, I said I don't want to be anywhere but on your six, and I meant it. Even here. Just give me a minute to grab my stuff."

Elizabeth smiled as Garrus spoke, taking a step back and relinquishing his hands, the Turian stepping backwards and turning to walk towards the hatch, Shepard speaking right as he reached the door, her voice suddenly confident again, dripping with flirtation and innuendo.

"Besides, Vakarian, it makes… catching up, a lot easier."

Garrus turned on the ball of his foot at the door, grinning shamelessly at Elizabeth as he spoke, his voice low and as alluring as Shepard had ever heard it.

"You wouldn't happen to need to blow off any… steam, would you Shepard?"

Elizabeth laughed, giggled really (though she would never admit it – _Alliance Commanders do not, I repeat do_ _not_ _giggle_ ) as she waved him through the door, being greeted with a responding call of Garrus' laughter through the closing doorway as she smiled, turning back towards the bathroom to continue getting ready for the night.

Normandy, Forwards Battery, 1200

Garrus could hear the anger in Shepard's footsteps almost before the door opened, her feet not needing combat boots nor ablative armor to attempt to beat the deck into submission as she walked, the sounds echoing through the hallway as the plating protested and warned all those in front of her. The door closed with the same speed, though he could have sworn it sounded more aggressive in response to Shepard – _who knows, EDI's more intuitive than people give her credit –_ as she walked inside the battery. Garrus turned around, grinning at Shepard as she grimaced a smile back at him, turning to the right as she marched over to his weapons bench. He flinched as Shepard swept a few of his carefully laid out tools – _admittedly, 'laid out' is a bit of a loose definition_ – to claim a seat atop the bench.

"So… meeting went well then?"

Shepard's voice was frustrated, angry, intense; spoken through clenched teeth and tight jaw.

"We're on our way to Sur'Kesh, if that's what you mean."

Garrus laughed, de-activating his gunnery terminal before walking around it to the edge which faced Shepard, leaning back against it.

"Well, not really. Your shoes look very shiny, for the record."

If voices could carry acid, seething pots of boiling acid, Shepard's would almost certainly be filled with the stuff.

"Thanks. I was really worried about it. Goddammit, I just…"

Elizabeth stopped herself, remembering lessons on "not complaining to subordinates" just as she started the sentence, causing Garrus' head to tilt slightly to the right, an eyebrow-plate lifting and his mandibles coming tightly to his mouth. His voice was inquisitive, though a very practiced neutral.

"You just what, Liz."

Garrus watched as the tension in Shepard seemed to boil hotter than it had since her entrance, her face contorting into an angry expression of vehement frustration and intense exacerbation, her green eyes shooting daggers at him for asking the question as she took a giant breath in through her nose and rolled her lips inwards in a seething expression. As she exhaled, however, the fiery frustration and anger seemed to leave with the air as her shoulders bowed and her head dropped down to her chest, her hands raising in mild helplessness before slapping the sides of her dress-uniform. When she looked up at Garrus again, the shadow under her eyes seemed deeper, darker, the passionate and angered frustration morphing into its exhausted sibling, her eyes seeming to sink into their sockets, retreating under the fatigue which seemed to plague the rest of her features. Her voice was, while not beaten, certainly lacking the fire and brimstone which had been in it before, boiling acid replaced by the slow molasses of exhaustion.

"I just don't know what the hell is wrong with these people that they can't see beyond their own goddamned noses. Actually, the ones with noses aren't even the problems."

"Salarians?"

"Yeah. Victus is cooperative enough, he's a soldier still, even showed up in his dress-blues. And Wrex… he knows the need, he's just using it to make head-way for his people. I should be angry at him for demanding the cure instead of just handing us soldiers, but I suppose there won't be a lot of soldiers to hand us unless we get the cure."

"That is a generation down the road, you know."

"This war could go that long. We need soldiers not just for now, but for the possibility of a generational conflict."

"That's a grueling thought."

"Tell me about it. No, the Salarian Dalatrass was the one who decided to stir up trouble. Honestly, you'd think thousand-year-old racism would take a back seat to the gigantic sentient death-bots which are knocking at everybody's door."

Garrus laughed slightly as Shepard's description, pushing himself off of his terminal to walk over to the bench Shepard was sitting on, leaning on it next to her, matching her gaze at the omnipresent dance of blue and red circles on his tactical terminal across the room.

"You'd think, wouldn't you? But some of these hatreds are taught from birth, even Turians get it. There are children's stories which revolve around evil Krogan kidnapping and beating lost children, some variations even say they eat them, Wrex got a kick out of them when I told him about them. We're told they're monsters from the first time we hear about them, a lot of people have a hard time forgetting those stories to see the truth."

Elizabeth shook her head, pursing her lips as she did so, rolling her eyes and sighing deeply afterwards.

"What the hell is so hard about forgetting them? I mean, she has proof they're not true in front of her! If she'd just pull her head out of her…"

Garrus interrupted her, causing Shepard's face to erupt with mild frustration and turn to her right to look at Garrus, a perfect rendition of her "I hate it when somebody interrupts me" face which so many other officers and soldiers had learned the lethality of, but which Garrus weathered with cool continuation.

"If she'd just realize the truth, it'd be easy, yes. But humans have the benefit of being the young ones in the galaxy, you haven't had enough time to develop a deep-seated hate for a race."

"One might be starting now."

"You know what I mean, Liz. I'm sorry it's frustrating, I know how hard it is to fight against bias and centuries old racism. It's inane and unproductive, trust me, I get that. But at least we're heading to Sur'Kesh, right?"

Shepard smiled slightly at the comment, pursing her lips again and nodding, closing her eyes gently. Her voice was softer, in both timbre and volume, conciliatory to a point she had been clinging too since the end of the meeting.

"Yes, yes we are."

Garrus smiled, putting his left arm around Shepard and pulling her quickly into a short one-armed hug before his tactical terminal turned a wholly un-settling shade of red, Garrus relinquishing Shepard quickly and striding with purpose over towards the terminal. While he did so, Shepard lifter herself off and jumped down from her seat on the weapons bench, striding with much easier steps than early over towards Garrus, her dress-shoes eliciting stocato reports from the deck plating and the Senior-Officer chain on her uniform jingling with every step.

"Everything okay, Gar?"

Garrus was tapping frantically away at the haptic interface, multiple lists dominating the screen and scrolling with un-readable speed across the screen, Garrus glancing at them occasionally, spastically before turning back towards the keyboard, a search bar clear in the upper-left hand portion of the screen.

"Garrus, what are you looking for? What is it?"

Garrus continued to ignore Shepard, tapping as quickly as he could on the terminal, the search paramaters changing with every new entry, the screen repeatedly showing three fatal words in bold letters infront of the constantly moving lists: "NO ENTRY FOUND". Elizabeth continued to watch before she looked at the top of the lists, seeing the titles: "Palaven Casualty List, Missing, 4 of 52"; "Palaven Casualty List, Injured, 5 of 20"; "Palavae Casualty List, Confirmed killed, 37 of 856".

Elizabeth walked up behind Garrus as his hands slowed down, finally dropping from the interface as "NO ENTRY FOUND" showed again on the screen, Garrus closing his eyes and bowing his head as Elizabeth stepped next to him, taking his left hand in her right. Though he didn't look up, Garrus' hand quickly latched onto hers, gripping it tightly, almost desperately as she heard a low whine begin in his subharmonics, felt it resonate throughout her chest with incredible sadness and worry and concern, no other sign of his grief but that enough. Slowly, Garrus began to talk, carefully navigating his own emotions as he felt his world draw into a sharp focus with the incisive emotion.

"I asked the Primarch to forward me all the casualty lists from Palaven, I still haven't heard from… about… I guess it'd be a bit much to hope that the world goes to hell and my dad and sister stay alright, wouldn't it? This war's too damned big to be that fair."

Elizabeth squeezed Garrus' hand, gently, reminding him of her grip, a gesture he quickly returned. She could still feel his soft pining in her chest, could see the closed eyes and the tight mandibles, no tears falling from his alien eyes though the grief needed no such expression, the tension in his body, the defeated angle of his head well enough to explain it. She moved towards him, rubbing her right arm against his left, resting her head gently against his shoulder, setting it down softly on the edge of his shoulder plate. He angled his head, the side of his just barely touching the top of hers, the contact well-known and its reassurance much needed, however small it may be. When Elizabeth spoke, it was softly, caringly, earnestly.

"You'll hear something, Garrus. Eventually. I can't say it'll be good news, you and I both know that's a promise I can't keep. But we're going to Sur'Kesh, we've got Wrex and The Primarch talking, we're doing everything we can."

When Garrus spoke, his response was dry, devoid of his characteristic hope, full instead of doubtful hope and powerful doubt, questions unasked hovering in the timbre and fears unspoken staying at his lips, though Elizabeth heard all of it.

"What if… what if our best isn't enough, Liz? We're doing everything we can, but this is beyond anything we've ever seen. This isn't a rogue spectre, isn't missing colonies, this is a galactic war which killed the greatest empire we have any record of. Dammit, how the hell do we fight that? How can we? What if… our best just isn't enough?"

Elizabeth squeezed Garrus' hand again, turning him to face her as she grabbed his other hand, holding them both in a posture which had come to mean intimacy and familiarity and comfort for the both of them, Garrus bringing his forehead down to meet hers in the classic Turian expression of love and affection, Shepard speaking quietly, passionately, with a soft intensity which flowed directly into Garrus' empty voice.

"If our best isn't enough then we keep giving it until it is. We're facing a long shot, yes. And all of us have our doubts, Garrus. But all those people, your family, are what we're fighting for. Now more than ever before. So even if our best isn't enough, we give it anyways, and we give it until it is or we die trying."

Garrus smiled slightly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Elizabeth's hand as he spoke, softly, a slight bit of trademark sarcasm and wit returning to his voice.

"I guess we just do as we've always done, and just run head-long into the problem until we solve it, huh?"

"I've been told that's what we're good at."

"The best."

 **Author's Note**

So, second chapter of Elizabeth, and I'm already loving writing her. Sorry if the story isn't moving along terribly quickly, I'm trying to write this story along with my Elizabeth Shepard play-through. I know there's a lot of fluff in here, not a whole lot of story or plot covered, but honestly the game does a good job of covering the majority of the plot, so I just like to fill in some of the more… intimate, behind-the-scenes scenes.

I know Garrus' family isn't mentioned until much later in the game, but when it is it sounds like it's a repeating issue, so I figured now would be as good a time to introduce it as ever. I'm still trying to pin down non-bantering Garrus, so hopefully the more emotional parts with him have been coming out alright. I usually fell pretty good about them by the finish, but any feedback in that regard would be very much appreciated.

Oh, and in case anybody is wondering, epoxycene is not a real material. Completely pulled that one out of my ass.

Comments and feedback is, as always, extremely appreciated; I want as much feedback as you guys can give me, it really helps me write (even if it's just a "hey, I liked it", that still helps in keeping me motivated and feeling good). So, if you have anything to say, please say it.

Those who aren't already doing so should come join the little tumblr party we're having over at my blog: , I post all my stories there along with fics of my varioius Shepard's and other fantastic ME stuff I find on that godforsaken (but much loved) website.

Regardless, enjoy!

SotS


	3. Chapter 3

Normandy, Shuttle Bay, 1200

Shepard squinted down the rifle, her eyes focusing on the target which appeared to be 120 meters away. She felt her breathing slow down, her entire world reduce to the path between herself and vaguely humanoid form. Her finger moved, slowly, smoothly to the trigger, curling around it with practiced slowness.

She raised the rifle slightly, dropping the sights down millimeter by millimeter towards the target. She took a breath in. Another breath out.

She squeezed the trigger.

The recoil from the rifle sent her sight-picture up drastically, the target leaving her line of sight before she could see the marks she had put in it, a soft beep from her omnitool indicating that she had hit it. She brought the rifle down quickly, sighting the target again. Her body tensed, like a cat stalking its prey, her muscles charged as if about to pounce.

Again, her finger slipped from the side of the rifle to curl around the trigger.

Again her rifle went up, coming down slowly, millimeter by millimeter.

Another breath in.

Another breath out.

She sqeezed the trigger.

Her rifle flew up as she heard the familiar beep from her omnitool indicating another hit, the sound a regular occurance for a soldier of her caliber, giving no indication of the location of the impact, simply its existence. She repeated the process again, bringing the target back into her sights, adjusting her firing position slightly, shuffling her feet softly against the metal deck plating.

Again, her finger found the trigger.

Again her sights began to fall towards the target.

Another breath in.

Another breath out.

She squeezed the trigger.

After returning her rifle to the target, Shepard clicked the safety on, dropping the rifle down to an easy carry as she walked back to the upgrade terminal behind her, the orange screen changing as she approached to display a picture of the humanoid target which she had been shooting at, green X's marking her points of impact, diagnostics indicating the degree of lethality which such an impact would cause on a realistic target.

Three of the X's were centered within three centimeters of each other in the center of the head-region, another five within five centimeters near the "critical zone" on the right-side of the "chest", a zone of incredible lethality for almost any species, a hold-over from a past and long forgotten race. What concerned Shepard, however, were the two X's which sat distinctly removed from her other two groupings, one 4.6 centimeters to the left of the chest group, another 5.8 centimeters below the head-grouping.

Elizabeth cursed slightly under her breath as she brought her hands to the haptic interface, reducing the range on the simulated target by two yards, resetting the simulation and watching the target-terminal she had set up 15 yards away adjust its image accordingly, the mass effect fields behind the device glowing an eery blue.

She walked around the desk, her mind racing as she analyzed her past ten shots, running over every inch of her posture, firing technique, shoulder and arm position in a litany of well-practiced concerns, resuming her position in the middle of the Shuttle Bay's landing strip, bringing the rifle up and seating it on her right shoulder, the M8 sitting in her hands almost as an extension of herself.

"If you ever want to shoot accurately, Liz, you're going to have to relax a bit…"

Elizabeth jumped slightly at the voice which came from behind her, dropping the rifle and spinning around to find Garrus leaning against the back of the shuttle bay, arms crossed in front of him and a trade-mark grin plastered on his face. She shook her head and rolled her eyes slightly, her left eyebrow raising as Garrus pushed his Torso forwards, leaving his leaning position to walk across the deserted shuttle bay towards her. The metallic clangs his boots made against the deck plating echoed around the cavernous space, leaving Elizabeth wondering wholly how he had managed to sneak up on her.

"Well, you should learn not to surprise N7's during target practice, I might have shot you for all you know."

Garrus shook his head as he passed the terminals, walking towards Shepard and pulling what appeared to be his Mantis off of his back, the weapons disengaging from the hard-mount and arming with a series of whirrs and a final electronic beep.

"No, you're trained to drop your weapon whenever you hear a sound behind you, hostile or not, before you pivot. Stops you from flagging comrades."

"Well didn't somebody get a hold of a human combat manual."

Garrus shrugged, now standing abreast of Shepard and looking down at his rifle, modifying it's firing setting to "practice", the auxiliary mass-effect core in the back of the weapon which provided recoil during practice shots engaging with a low hum.

"We did some joint operations when I was still in service."

Shepard took a step back, gesturing with her left hand as she did so, sarcasm dripping with the "Magnanimous" gesture.

"Well, please, show me how I need to be shooting."

Without hesitation Garrus took one-step into the firing position, bringing his rifle up to his shoulder. Due to the bulk of his cowl, like most Turian soldiers Garrus shot with a much more forwards-facing position than Shepard, his left arm coming underneath the bulk of his breast-bone to meet his right, stabilizing the rifle only a few centimeters in front of the grip. He angled his head to the right for a few moments, lining his eye up with the sight enough to double check his bead before he rasied it, turning to look at Shepard.

"Like this."

While maintaining eye contact Garrus squeezed off three shots in rapid succession, the computer pinging politely each time, before dropping his rifle. Shepard rolled her eyes before turning to walk towards the terminal, aggressively bringing up the target as Garrus rounded the edge, coming to stand slightly behind her and to her right. Much to Elizabeth's chagrin, there were three green X's, one in the middle of the head-portion, and two within half a centimeter of each other in the critical zone. Shepard rolled her eyes, setting her weapon down as it folded up, facing Garrus with crossed arms and thrown hips.

"Not fair, vakarian. You had the visor."

Garrus scoffed, dropping his weapon back onto the hard-mount on his back, tapping the visor with his left hand.

"As if I'd need it for a shot like that."

Shepard shook her hand as he heard his statement, picking her rifle up and walking back and to the port-side of the hangar, opening up her arms locker and stowing her weapon, giving it a quick wipe before setting it on the mount inside the locker. Garrus followed suite, leaning against the crates that were besides the locker after he finished.

"So what brought you down here, Shepard? I don't think I've seen you come in for target practice before."

Shepard laughed slightly as she re-positioned her helmet slightly, ensuring that all the components were in place before closing the door, locking it, and leaning up against the door. She crossed her left foot outwards and over her right, the bottom of her boot perpendicular to the deck-plating in a posture similar to Garrus', though nobody could ever determine who had learned it from who. She looked at Garrus as she spoke, bobbing her head to emphasize her statement, trying to hide the mild shame with which she said it as nonchalance, hoping the Turian would not pick up on it.

"Well, after Sur'kesh I noticed my shots were a bit spotty. I guess after months without shooting anything, even my skills can get a little rusty."

Garrus nodded, closing his eyes gently before opening them, looking into Elizabeth's. While he said nothing, she could tell he had still picked up on her mild shame, dropping her eyes from him with a furtive hope that he would observe none of it in her face.

"Things did go sideways pretty quickly down there, didn't they?"

Shepard laughed at his understatement, a cold hard laugh which contained neither mirth nor happiness within a hundred meters, being filled instead with only bitter memories and pessimistic predictions.

"That's one way of putting it, yeah. I only intended to bring weapons as a precautionary measure, I didn't think we'd use them on that. Why would we have?"

"Because a terrorist human-supremist organization decided it just wanted to ruin your day?"

Another hard laugh, though this time the bitter memories ran deeper, a crazy man's accusation and a series of military graves presenting themselves in her mind, the sour taste of months of guilt and years of grief hanging on her tongue.

"They ruined my day years ago, along with my squad's. If we have to fight like that any time we try and get anything done…"

Elizabeth's sentence trailed off, the silence a more poignant medium to convey the days and battles she imagined in their future, the struggle added to an already difficult fight, the relentless fatigue of days upon days of combat, the inevitable losses and injuries. The silent space at the end of her sentence was charged with a resigned determination that she would fight through the battles, that the tribulations would never be enough to halt her drive to victory, but also a mild fear at the mountainous task ahead, a seemingly impossible goal made steeper with the promise of resistance at every turn.

"It'll be no worse than the diplomatic fighting you've dealt with for the past four years."

Elizabeth scoffed.

"Yeah, at least this time the enemy admits what it's doing."

Garrus chuckled, Elizabeth continued.

"It's bad enough we're having to fight the Reapers, but now Cerberus too at every turn? I was just fine when we were just fighting the giant death machines, no need to add the power-hungry morally decrepit terrorist group."

Garrus raised a brow plate, his mandibles flaring in a small grin as his voice became seeped in a trademark brank of sarcasm which was uniquely his.

"If I didn't know better, Liz, I'd say you were scared."

Elizabeth laughed, rolling her eyes as she smiled slightly, the familiarity and comfortability of her and Garrus' constant raport a welcome relief after the stress and worry of the past day.

"How could I be, with Turians who can make shots without looking and a crazy Salarian scientist on board."

Garrus laughed again, a low, slow bubble of mild humor which made Elizabeth smile further.

"It is good to see him, isn't it? Wrex too. We're getting the old team together, slowly but surely.

"What, team Normandy? Half of them never even worked together, I'm amazed Wrex and Mordin even know each other."

Garrus angled his head downwards, looking Elizabeth directly in the eye as he spoke, his voice intensely directed at her, neither cheerful nor sarcastic nor even pessimistic but rather just delivered with a directness and concentration of intent which drove his point home.

"They all worked under you, Liz, that's enough."

The silence afterwards was poignant while Elizabeth considered Garrus' statement, her mind rushing through the roster of her "Team Normandy", imagining more efficient combat teams and new interactions which were inevitable were her past two crews united. While she was aware that she had already taken crews on two tasks of large significance, Elizabeth had never considered herself the type of soldier who developed teams around their personalities, whose ships and commands became more institutions than military assets. The N7 within her took her accomplishments as, if not for granted than certainly merely impressive, months of training to handle volatile missions routinely discounting to some degree the immensity of them. In her mind she was simply a soldier, a well-trained and accomplished one, but still not the public icon and hero which she seemed to represent to the rest of the galaxy. The idea of having a "Team Normandy" built from people of disparate backgrounds and almost diametrically opposed personalities, which was seen as an institution of excellence and accomplishment by both her superiors and the rest of the galaxy, still remained fairly foreign to her.

Eventually, Garrus cleared his throat.

So, I hear we're headed to the Citadel?"

Elizabeth nodded tentatively, her mind still thinking of Garrus' comment, pushing off of the locker and turning to walk towards the elevator. Garrus followed suit, staying always to Shepard's right, years in a society rife with structure and rank as well as service in both the Turian military and C-Sec driving him to a perfect subordinate position.

"Yes. I got a message from Ash saying she needed to see me, as well as Miranda and a Salarian Spectre. Oh, and a few crew exchanges, they want to give us some more war-room staff."

Garrus nodded as the elevator slid into position exceedingly slowly, the door lifting with equal unhurriedness, both he and Elizabeth stepping under it, ducking their heads, before it was completely open.

"Sounds like the Citadel's going to be our home port then."

"That's the intention."


	4. Chapter 4

Purgatory, 1300 Hours

Shepard didn't look at the person sitting next to her, instead swilling her drink around – _nonalcoholic, damn regulations. It might be good for my brain, but honestly, some whisky burn might be a welcome thing right about now –_ speaking in her gruff "don't bother me" at the clearly male form to her left.

"Listen, bud, not interested. I'm sure you're a nice guy and all, but I've got a good thing going and I'm sure as hell willing to deck you if you keep pushing it."

The small speech had been given to every individual, male or female, who came to sit next to her, and the seats besides her were likewise empty. Progress had been made in the past 150 years, gender acceptance and equality had progressed greatly, but as if to explain why there were still strip clubs on the lower wards, it was still an accepted truth that being hit on in a bar was as unpleasant as ever. And at the moment, Shepard did not have the patience to deal with unpleasantness.

The individual sitting next to her stood, or rather sat, his ground, gesturing at the bartender who had been cowering in a back corner for a drink, a tall purple glass soon set down next to him. Shepard glared at him, though never turned her head, raising the glass up to take a swig of the non-alcoholic "whisky" (though Shepard cringed to even call it that), before setting it down and gruffly continuing.

"Look, pal, I appreciate determination. Goodness knows I understand. But now is not the time. I've had a long day, long couple of days. More than couple. And frankly, you keep sitting there, I'm liable to let some of those "long days" come out through my fists. Which will likely result in your ass becoming extremely well acquainted with the floor. So why don't you just stand up and mosey on out of here, before I treat your face like a piñata?"

The individual next to her laughed dryly, raising the glass to his mouth and taking a long pull from it before setting it down slightly aggressively on the table in front of him before speaking in a tone that fairly matched Shepard's, his gaze fixed on the bottles which were in view of the bar, or rather beyond them.

"That's unlikely, hun. I hate to tell you, but I'm on of the best hand-to-hand specialists you will ever see. So, for how much I'm sure you'd like to make the introductions, my ass will not be getting friendly with the floor. Not today."

As soon as the individual began to speak, Elizabeth's head snapped to look at him quickly, a small smirk coming to her face as she was greeted first by the all-too-familiar visor, then the blue stripe across his features. The one thing that was missing, that concerned Shepard arguably the most for its absence, was a trademark sarcastic grin.

Garrus continued, taking another sip from his certainly _very_ alcoholic drink (if Elizabeth's sense of smell had anything to say about it) before continuing, still staring a thousand kilometers in front of him.

"Now, seeing as we've established that no faces will become… piñatas, whatever those are; how about we interact like decent goddamned sentient beings and talk? That too much to ask?"

Shepard frowned as she heard the almost palpable bitterness and injury in Garrus' voice, his sarcasm at the end cutting, malicious, a far cry from his typical good-natured self. She finished her drink, setting it down for the terrified bartender to tend, putting her right hand on Garrus' left which was clutching his drink, his right hand clenched in a tight fist. Her voice was soft, tender, caring, the tone which was reserved mostly for him, and him alone.

"Alright, I think I can play by those rules. Anything in particular you want to talk about?"

Garrus shook his head, his eyes never leaving their focal point in front of him, his mandibles wrapping tight around his jaw like a blanket around a terrified child. Beneath his voice, Elizabeth could hear his grief, the pining quality of his subharmonics hard to miss even for a human like her, a combination of terror, rage, and despair all echoing through his chest.

"No, Liz. And I'm not angry with you, please don't think that. I just…"

Elizabeth began to run her thumb up and down Garrus' talon, his hand turning to take hers, gripping her four fingers against his palm as she continued to stroke her thumb up and down across his hand. Her brow furrowed with concern, each line telling a possible story, trying to guess at what horror he had just endured.

"You were back in the waiting area again, weren't you?"

Garrus mutely nodded, raising his glass to take another deep pull from it. His subharmonics were now sounding even when his primary voice could not be heard, a high-pitched terrible pining call, a small outlet of the hopeless winds which were racing through his heart. True to his stoic culture, he pulled his mandibles tight against his face and remained silent instead of risk his emotion coming even more clearly through his primary voice, his eyes sinking further into his face as he tried to hold back any further expressions of emotion.

Elizabeth inhaled slowly through her nose, shutting her eyes gently and nodding as images of injured soldiers and crying friends, of bloodied cots and defeated surgeons and rows upon rows upon rows of blue bags, little soldier-sized lumps for little soldier-sized bodies that used to be little soldiers flashed in front of her eyes. Her voice was soft, hollow, devoid of passion for fear that it would consume her statement, commandeer her voice and mind.

"It was bad tonight?"

Garrus shut his eyes, the mild motion of his head resembling a nod though it seemed to minute to even be noticed by all but the most experienced observer. Elizabeth gripped his hand harder, Garrus returning the gesture as his voice sounded, lowly, softly, tentatively.

"There's just… nothing left, Liz. I told you how bad our casualties are, but that doesn't do it justice. It's bad enough how many we're losing in the field, but the ones that make it back here… Shepard, they don't stand a chance. Some of them are fine physically, sure. But the nightmares, the terrors, jumping at every loud noise? It's never going to stop for them. They're being decimated, inside and out."

As Garrus finished speaking a particularly drunk Alliance marine ran into the bar to Elizabeth's right, just barely catching the edge with hastily placed hands, turning himself over so that his back was against the bar. He turned to look at Shepard, raising a hand to render an apology before his inebriated eyes caught a sight of Shepard's uniform, the gold bars bringing him to an immediate, if not swaying salute. Shepard brought her hand up, touching her temple and snapping her hand a few centimeters forwards, the Marine taking the signal for what it was and cutting his salute, running to join his friends on the floor again. Both Garrus and Shepard watched the marine re-join his friends, the four joking as three Turian Marines came and introduced themselves, the group becoming the fast friends of war which were so common, arms thrown around backs as they walked away. Garrus took another drink before continuing.

"I mean, look at them Liz. They don't know what they're getting into. Even if they've seen some action, it's still just glory and metals, a chance to say they helped save the galaxy. There's a thousand more like them down in that waiting area, and millions more lying dead at the foot of some reaper. We're killing them, Shepard. They're all just… dying. Some physically. Some come home and they're just empty, hollowed out inside. I don't… how do you cope with that?"

Garrus pulled his glass up to take another drink but paused before the liquid touched his lips, his nose twitching slightly. Elizabeth watched with intense concern as Garrus' pupils dilated, his glass dropped onto the counter and spilling before he pushed himself away, jumping back a meter before bolting towards the door.

Elizabeth threw a small reassuring hand at the bartender before following Garrus, the Turians' body responding to stress by preparing for primordial combat, his strides longer and stronger, even Shepard's enhanced spring insufficient to catch up to him. By the time she left the door she found him leaning on the railing that over-looked the rest of the citadel, his eyes closed, taking deep breaths in through his nose of the filtered air. Shepard stopped running three meters away, approaching slowly and quietly, eventually coming to Garrus' right side, leaning against the railing next to him and looking out onto the wards beneath them. After a few moments, Garrus spoke, softly, his voice clearly embarrassed, though no less distressed.

"Alcohol in my drink, smelled too much like the antiseptic. I… I had to get out of there. Fresh air."

Elizabeth nodded as she listened, moving closer to Garrus. She placed her left arm around his hip, pulling him closer to her as he placed his right arm over her shoulder, gripping her tightly, almost desperately. Shepard breathed deeply, absorbing the Turian's unique scent while she collected her thoughts, eventually speaking slowly, methodically, each word and syllable carefully considered.

"Gar… I wish there were something I could do to help, something I could say to even just make it a little better. But you and I both know that the only way to help is to win this damned thing. Win it, and earn all the injured soldiers a chance to heal, make sure that our kids don't have to deal with, see, this. That the kids of those broken men and women in the holding docks only know war as a story. And we will. Dammit, if I have to kill every husk and cannibal with my bare hands we will. But until then…"

She grasped his waist tighter to reassure him, the gesture reciprocated by his arm as she felt his arm plate dig into her shoulder, though the mild pain was not unwelcome. Slowly, Shepard continued.

"When I was… when I was on Akuze, after the first day, after my squad was… well… the Alliance finally showed up with a little bit of back-up. Most of them were soldiers, sent to shore up the lines, but there was a medical team with them too. They set up a little field hospital, in the center of the colony, right where the shopping square had been. Eventually, one of the Marines came and took me" Shepard laughed dryly, ghosts dancing in her eyes as bloody hands and broken rifles flashed in front of them. "They had to literally tear me from the wall, I was so… scared, I guess. They finally got me to the medical camp, got me in to see a doctor for some of my wounds. While I was there, I heard, saw… all of them. All of the civilians who had survived were injured, and they had all been brought there. And… god, Gar, I can still hear some of them. I mean, just twelve hours before, their biggest concerns were what they were going to eat for dinner, but now they were… mangled. Destroyed."

Tears began to fall softly down Elizabeth's face as she spoke, her gaze still distant, seeing far past the immediate surroundings into horrors which plagued her almost every night, her hands shaking as adrenaline shot through her body, a tightened grip from Garrus just barely keeping her grounded as she told her story. She laughed, dryly, bitterly, as she brought a hand up to dry her face, the tears coming more steadily, her breaths coming further in gasps and her voice getting softer, lower.

"God, Garrus, I was so dead when they brought me in, it had been thirty hours since the first attack, I was… practically delirious. And then I see all those people, children, elderly, civilians who were never supposed to see that kind of… hell, lying around, injured, not enough pain killer to go around? It broke me. I just collapsed. Right there. They had to carry me over to my rack, I had… I shut down."

By now Elizabeth's breaths were coming in earnest gasps, her voice so soft that even Garrus' superior hearing was struggling to hear her over the ambient noise of the constantly busy station. Tears flowed unabashedly down her face, dripping onto the railing beneath her as she struggled to continue, Garrus rubbing her arm as she brought her left arm up across her body to hold his hand.

"When they finally got me to my rack, I looked to my left and saw this teenage kid. Couldn't have been older than 15, his left arm bandaged, acid by the smell of it. He was one of the more… intact, ones, so he didn't get painkillers, god he looked like he hurt. When I laid down, he looked over at me and just started talking. I'll never forget what he said: 'Don't let this break you. Fight in honor of this, not in spite of it.' I don't know where the hell a 15-year-old gets something like that, but he did. I nodded and he smiled… and then his machine went flat. Within minutes he was… gone."

Elizabeth turned, looking Garrus directly in the eye as she felt the strength return to her voice, the tears slow and passion return, the ghosts retreating before the will she brought to bear on the fight she was in. She took both of his hands in hers, the distance between them small enough for the electric current fo her formidable will and incredible determination to jump from her heart to his through her voice.

"So, Gar, just like he said to me: Don't let it break you. Fight in honor of them. Not in spite of."

Garrus nodded, turning away for a second before bringing his forehead forwards, touching it gently, lovingly to Elizabeth's as she regained control of her breathing. They stayed like that for moments, but it felt like eternities for both of them, the single point of contact so precious, so significant, an anchor in the storm they were weathering. Softly, Garrus began to speak.

"This isn't going to break me, Shepard. They'll be the names on our lips as we beat these bastards back into hell. And… thank-you. I don't say it often, because, well probably because we know how skilled I am at romantic gestures, but I love you Liz. Don't let anybody else know but I need you. So, just… Thank-you."

Elizabeth angled her head forwards her lips coming into soft and equally tender contact with Garrus' face plates, a soft smile playing over both of their faces as she did so, their faces breaking away after a few heartbeats for them to look into each-other's eyes.

"Don't worry, I won't tell."

Garrus laughed, turning to head back into the bar, his good humor returning quickly after Shepard's story. While they did not occur commonly, the occasional bout of depressive hopelessness tore through Garrus rabidly, but quickly. Turian physiology was not pre-disposed to sustained emotional stress: the response to such an unsustainable increase in physical ability to react to whatever ancient threat was inducing such a feeling, and thus the stress disappearing as quickly as the body began recovery from such a near-pyrrhic response. Thus, Garrus' good humor and sarcasm returned quickly, though the undertone of the previous moments remained.

"Hell, Liz, you can tell anybody you want. Just not Wrex. He'd never let me live it down."

"Don't want a Krogan warlord giving you crap for having a girlfriend, Vakarian?"

The two walked through the doors, making their way back to their seats in the upper bar, Shepard nodding slightly at Aria as she passed. The bartender had replaced both of their glasses and smiled delicately at them as they sat down, retreating back to his corner and becoming monumentally interested in the glass he was polishing.

"No, I just don't want to have to follow Turian Honor when he does make a comment."

"Don't tell me you'd have to cut his quad off and feed it to him for insulting my waist or hair or something?"

Garrus chuckled, taking a swig of his drink, his nose twitching slightly but not enough so to cause him to run to the fresh air as previously.

"Now there's an idea. I might just try that anyways."

Elizabeth's laugh chortled out of her throat lightly as she patted the side of Garrus' arm, her head resting softly and momentarily on his shoulder pad. The two took another drink before turning around to watch the Turian and Alliance Marines who were still dancing, Garrus beginning to take bets on who would pass out first. Shepard bet, and lost as usual, but to see the smile on Garrus' face that looked almost like unfiltered mirth, almost like earnest happiness, she would lose any bet she had to.

Author's Comments

Well, that got a little feels-y, so sorry for that. Arguably not the most feels I've yet written, but I really wanted to keep playing around with the idea of how Shepard and Garrus deal with the emotional drain of the war, and how they do so together. I'm still not certain how well I've nailed down Garrus' voice, especially during more earnest moments. His sarcasm is pretty easy, but his more emotional dialogue seems harder to master. So, if you think I'm doing poorly or well, let me know, I LOVE feedback, both positive and negative (comments especially are appreciated).

Again, this had to be done separate to her play-through, so there's not a whole lot of plot going on here. I think my game is working now, though, so that should change next chapter. And sorry for the wait, those of you who do not follow me on tumblr (which you should: ) haven't heard: I have been running a new student orientation for the past week until Saturday, and then moving into my new apartment from Saturday to today, so there has been little-no time for writing. But, I'm all settled in, and will hopefully be back on track.

Either way, enjoy, and let me know what you think!

SotS


	5. Chapter 5

Normandy Deck 1 – 0200 Hours

"Well, I didn't expect you to still be up."

Garrus sauntered across the top deck of the stateroom to stand behind the Commander, who was sitting cross-legged in what appeared to be nothing but her N7 hoodie, swiping furtively at the terminal. Garrus threw his datapad down on the desk in front of them and stood directly behind her, his appreciable height advantage letting him see directly over her, the terminal screen revealing what appeared to be camera footage from multiple missions in the war, from her arrival on Menae to their most recent furtive mission to Grissom Academy. Elizabeth failed to turn around, still intently typing on the Terminal.

"Liz? What are you working on?"

Elizabeth kept working, perplexing Garrus, who quickly began to review any and every mistake he had made in the past 48 hours in his mind, eventually turning her head to reveal an ear-bud lodged in each one. Garrus chuckled to himself, leaning forwards until his mouth was directly next to her ear, his eyes lighting with the mirth of a rarely-given opportunity to sneak up on the fabled Commander Shepard. His voice was kept just above a conversational level, loud enough to ensure that he would be heard at the minimal distance, but no louder than he was speaking earlier.

"Morning, Liz."

Elizabeth gasped at the sound next to her, combat-honed instincts kicking in as the butt of her right palm came quickly across her body, making contact with Garrus' nose with an alarming "crack". She stood up quickly, her foot hooking under the chair and throwing it back, catching Garrus' left leg such that the Turian fell quickly to the deck, his face still frozen in utter surprise and his arms coming up to his now broken nose. Elizabeth's instincts maintained control of her for another instant as her left foot came heavily down on the middle of Garrus' cowl and her right knee began to drive into his sensitive mid-section, a text-book execution that any N-instructor would be proud of.

Right before her knee made contact, Elizabeth's brain caught up with the rest of her and her knee jerked to the right, making hard contact with the deck and throwing her off balance, Shepard herself collapsing forwards onto Garrus, who was now gripping his nose and moaning softly.

She pushed herself up, her face now far enough away from Garrus' for her to see the inkling of blue blood which had begun to trickle down the side of his face, Shepard moving herself to sit next to Garrus, her legs extending parallel to his Torso as he brought is arms behind him to sit himself up.

"Oh my god, Garrus, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to… are you…"

Garrus laughed slightly, bringing his left hand up to wave away Elizabeth's extended hands, shooting her a wry, if not slightly pained, grin to confirm his well-being.

"Relax, Liz. If I can take a rocket to the face, I'm sure I can take your hand. That's certainly a reaction time you've got there, though."

Elizabeth laughed, standing herself up and massaging her knee, a bruise from the metal deck-plating already beginning to form. She smiled at Garrrus before she offered him a hand, their height difference making it fairly useless in assisting him up, but the gesture appreciated nonetheless.

"I told you before, don't sneak up on a N7."

Garrus shook his head as he stood up, his nose no longer bleeding but no less sore for that fact.

"Apparently I should have taken that to heart. Damn."

Elizabeth reached up, taking Garrus' face by the bottom of his chin and turning it left and right as she looked over the impact spot, the plates broken and shattered where the majority of her force had ended up, the tissue underneath an angry shade of cerulean.

"Do you need to go see Chakwas?"

He shook his head as he bent down and picked up the chair, pushing it slightly towards Shepard, who quickly resumed her seat in it.

"And sacrifice my pride like that? No, I'm alright. It's just going to flake a little bit as the plate grows back, should probably keep it away from the main cannon."

Elizabeth laughed at the small joke, crossing her legs in her seat. She flashed Garrus a grin that was dripping with sarcasm, her green eyes flashing mischievously as her voice took a similar tone.

"Well, I certainly don't know of anybody else on this ship who would welcome having you in her stateroom more."

The Turian laughed, bringing his hand away from his face as he wiggled his nose slightly, a similar grin being given back to Elizabeth.

"Well, I could go back and talk to the Primarch more… I've heard they put him up in Life Support, plenty of room for me to join him."

While he talked he shrugged, his face taking an expression of faux-resignation as he turned to walk away. Before he had made it two steps, Garrus felt a strong hand grip his right arm, a pull wheeling him around until he was backed up against the desk and Elizabeth's face was mere centimeters away from his, her legs wrapped around his hips to make up their height difference.

"Like hell you will."

Garrus chuckled lowly.

"Well… Aye aye, ma'am. That is what you make your crew say, isn't it?"

Elizabeth's voice was low, intense, husky almost.

"Only when someone's made me angry."

"I haven't yet, have I?"

"You will if you go sleep with the Primarch."

Garrus chuckled, lowly, bringing his hands which had been resting on the desk up to grip Elizabeth's face, knocking his datapad off of the desk in the process. Shepard jumped off of the Turian's frame and erupted into chortling laughter as Garrus lost his balance trying to catch the datapad, bouncing it off of each of his hands before finally sandwiching it between his right hand and left foot, the awkward position causing Shepard to only laugh harder as she found her seat behind her, sitting down as side began hurting.

"You're the epitome of grace, Vakarian."

Garrus stood up, saving as much dignity as he could by slowly putting the datapad down on the desk and standing up, crossing his arms and looking at Shepard, his mind racing to find something, anything to say in response.

"Well… I… Uh… What are you working on?"

As he finished his attempted save Garrus leaned forwards, squinting slightly as he stared at the data terminal, the sudden non-sequitur giving Elizabeth cause to laugh harder as she turned her chair towards the terminal, fiddling with the program as she spoke over her shoulder to Garrus.

"Well, I suppose it's sort of like scrap-booking. But, for the 22nd century. I was watching some of the helmet and shuttle-cam footage we've got from the past couple of missions, and started to realize it would make a great home-made movie."

Garrus cut her off, his voice bemused sounding.

"So, you decided to get up in the early hours of the morning to make said movie?"

Elizabeth shook her head slightly the screen finally turning black but with a large play-button in the center, her chair turning so that she faced Garrus as she spoke.

"No, I couldn't sleep, and the idea hit me like a charging Krogan, so I decided I would try."

With that she pressed play on the terminal, turning to watch her handiwork with a self-satisfied smile. The screen faded from black, a bass and drum intro playing underneath as the black gave way to the mounted camera in the shuttle on Menae, a guitar entering as the door opened and Shepard got out her rifle. As she began to fire, the lyrics of the song began to ring out across the terminal, Elizabeth bobbing her head as she softly sang along.

"Some folks are born, made to raise the flag. Whoo, they're red white and blue…"

The song kept going, the video switching between helmet footage and mounted cameras, bullets and rifles and victories flitting across the screen like so many notes and drum beats. As the song ended it gave way to another one, the screen likewise fading to what appeared to be footage from Sur'Kesh. Garrus stood and listened, aware that the music was often referred to as "Classic Rock" by humans, and that Shepard listened to it often when maintenancing armor or rifles or PT-ing. But what was by-far the most enduring to him was the home-made quality of the video. The footage was, as combat footage always was, the low-definition work of a minimal camera, intended only for use in after-action reports and courts-martials, but the transition and cuts seemed amateurish to say the least. He stole glares back at Elizabeth's face as she nodded slowly with each camera and song change, gestured excitedly with each "major" moment which she had engineered. As he watched, Garrus couldn't help but marvel at how excited she, the woman who had stopped Saren, eliminated the Collectors, and was now expected to almost single-handedly lead the galaxy to victory against the greatest threat it had ever faced, could get so excited about something so trivial as a poorly-edited home movie.

As the last shot came to an end and the music faded out, Elizabeth turned around to face Garrus, beaming as she looked at him.

"Well, what did you think?!"

Garrus shifted nervously, transferring his weight between each of his feet, his hands fiddling slightly behind his back where they had taken up residence.

"It's… very creative."

His heart shattered as he watched Elizabeth's face fall, his statement far from convincing of the affirmation which she had been so desperately looking for. She dropped her head slightly, looking straight forwards, before looking farther down at Garrus' feet, shutting her eyes gently as she exhaled deeply and spun her chair back to her terminal. As she extended her right arm to begin deleting the video, Garrus caught the back of her chair, hiding the distress in his face as he spun her back to face him again.

"Liz, don't delete it."

When Shepard spoke, her voice seemed small, vulnerable, every quality which was never associated with "Commander Shepard." The pain, the hurt which was conveyed by the slight tremor of her lower lip and the insecurity which rang through her now slightly duller green eyes tore into Garrus with the force of a thousand Thresher-Maws.

"But, you don't like it."

Instantly, as Shepard spoke, the image of a small human child, messy blond hair in a hasty pony-tail and eyes red from some unkown injustice flew through his mind, the template so similar to the human children he saw at C-Sec. This was not the typical hardened Elizabeth Shepard he was used to dealing with, this was an infinitely more vulnerable part, even more so than he had ever realized she had.

"I never said that."

"But you meant it."

Garrus crouched down, bringing his right talon underneath Elizabeth's chin, pulling her face to look at him through what appeared to be slightly watery eyes and a slowly failing expression of nonchalance. When he spoke his voice was low, earnest, every word considered and weighed, packed with love and sentiment before being shipped as carefully as possible directly to her heart.

"No, Liz. I said it was creative. You made this, right?"

Elizabeth nodded her head quickly, closing her eyes as she tried to prevent any tears which were quickly forming from leaking out.

"Well, then I already like it."

Shepard was caught so by surprise by Garrus' statement that she practically guffawed in response, three tears streaking quickly down her face only to be caught in the sleeve of her well-worn N7 sweatshirt. She closed her eyes tightly, smiling earnestly at Garrus as she spoke, her voice fragile, caught between grief and pain and incredible love and affection.

"You're just saying that."

Garrus shook his head, reaching out to pull Elizabeth into an awkwardly-positioned, but no less appreciated hug, his voice resonating through his chest and into hers.

"No, I mean it. I'll be honest, it's a little rough, could use some work. But you made it, Liz, that's enough for me to love it."

Shepard sniffed, bringing her sleeve up to wipe her nose before breaking away from the hug, sitting back down in her chair, sniffing again. Slowly, carefully, Garrus began to talk, the carefully considered question quickly decaying.

"Why is this… affecting you, so much? I mean, not to be insensitive. I guess that kind of is, isn't it? Damn. I'm just… well, you're usually… tougher? Stronger? No, that's not right. I'm just going to… stop. Talking. Now."

Shepard giggled slightly, before biting her lower lip, taking three deep breaths through her nose before continuing again.

"It's because… It's 'cause I made it, Garrus."

Garrus cocked his head, his brow coming together as much as his plates would allow.

"What do you mean?"

Elizabeth wiped her eyes and nose one last time before continuing on, her speech pattern slow as she searched for the right words, the territory of the conversation not only intimidating to speak of, but also requiring a great deal of consideration to properly convey.

"Before I joined I used to love to do art. Visual, mostly, though I learned to play a bit of piano. When I finially enlisted, well, you know: It's not very "Alliance Marine" of me to love to make pretty paintings or fun videos. So I stopped, only did it on occasion. And I never showed anyone. You're the first one I've shown anything like this in at least fifteen years. So… I guess that's why I'm so sensitive."

The sound that came from Garrus' chest was the Turian equivalent of a human "Awww", his subvocals dropping an octave and reverberating warmly through his chest and into Elizabeth's as he pulled her into another hug, speaking over her shoulder.

"I didn't know, Liz. I'm sorry. I do like it, even if you hadn't made it. It's just a little, rough. You'll just need a bit of practice before you become the official videographer of the Normandy's adventures after all this is over. But I do like it, definitely."

"You do?"

"Absolutely."


End file.
